


Invitation Only

by Army C (arh581958)



Series: #GallavichWeek [19]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Mafia, But idiotic enough not to say it, Day 5 - Jealousy, Gallavich, Gallavich Week, Gallavich Week 2017 B, Jealous!Ian, M/M, Mafia!Ian, Mickey doesn't realize how how he is, Mutual Attractions, Rich!boys, Successful!Mickey, Tongue-twisted!Mickey, and bumbles when someone tries to flirt with him, brief implied non-con, but Mickey quickly gets with the program, he's just being shy, nerd!mickey, oblivious!Mickey, rich or poor they stay together, rich!Mickey, rich!ian, you'll love Ian when he's a jealous MF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 22:57:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12851313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Army%20C
Summary: Mickey never really liked parties.Being in a large crowd was more a chore than a pleasure. Three’s his limit. Four already made his palms damp—a conditioned response. Blame it on all the years of social ridicule he endured as a child. It wasn’t easy growing up where they made of people for being smart. He couldn’t be blamed for his natural amour for numbers.What’s in the past has passed; parties, however, were still difficult for him.





	Invitation Only

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Gallavich Week 2017 Day 5 - Jealousy
> 
> Honestly? I just wanted Ian manhandling Mickey. I wanted him ripping Mickey's clothes off unceremoniously. I wanted Mickey complaining like the blushing virgin he's not, but ultimately liking the way Ian fucks him. 
> 
> WARNING: **Not Beta Read**. Open to Volunteers.

Mickey never really liked parties.

Being in a large crowd was more a chore than a pleasure. Three’s his limit. Four already made his palms damp—a conditioned response. Blame it on all the years of social ridicule he endured as a child. It wasn’t easy growing up where they made of people for being smart. He couldn’t be blamed for his natural amour for numbers.

What’s in the past has passed; parties, however, were still difficult for him.

The Milkovich Foundation advocated for the protection of women. It began by giving children in less privileged social classes—a safe haven, mostly from domestic violence cases; and, has expanded globally. They now help women as far as Asia and Africa.

His siblings and he established the Milkovich Foundation exactly ten years ago, as a gift to their mother. With her kids grown and successful, there wasn’t much for the newly retired teacher to do. It started easy when she spent nearly a month with all them but she grew wary. None lf them wanted to see their mother wither away; and so, they incorporated a family-owned private corporation and placed her as chairwoman.

Now, she hosted a charity gala every year on her birthday. She required all her children, all board members of the foundation, to attend—legally.

This year was extra special. All of them had a part to play.

Iggy hosted this afternoon’s soccer tournament. Tony, along with his personal staff, oversaw tonight’s dinner preparations. Meanwhile, Mandy and Collins entertained the guests while they waited. It was a duet; she skillfully danced to a medley of their mother’s favorite songs played by him.  

Mickey, amongst all the Milkovich children, disliked being in the spotlight the most. Hence, his contribution was to fund the prizes for the lottery later tonight. Then, he didn’t have to climb any stage or platform.

The invite-only event for their biggest investors took place in (The Grand Hotel). It was one of Chicago’s most famous, with a caliber that rivaled The Hilton. It also, not so coincidentally, happened to be Ian’s. That made Mickey all the more wary. It seemed his mother was not informed of that tiny detail.

He stood amongst the pillars and flora, confident enough to please his mother but willfully dull as not to attract touch attention—hiding in plain sight. Sometimes it worked. This time it didn’t.

A tall gentleman approached him from the cocktail table. “You must be Mikhailo. I can spot Choe’s gene anywhere. My god, her genes. Yet another handsome one. Let me introduce myself; I’m—”

“—Congressman Newman. Y—yes, I know who you are. The pleasure is mine,” said Mickey, stuttering a bit. Despite years of practice, childhood habits were hard to break. Some called it his innocent charm.

Congressman Ned Newman smiled brightly. He offered his hand, and said “No, you, sir, are magnificent. I’ve never heard of such a brilliant entrepreneurial mind—nothing quite like yours. We studied your portfolios back in executive MBA. It’s very impressive. Quite a gifted man with the Midas’ touch!”

Mickey’s cheeks heated up. This was exactly why he preferred staying in the shadows. He still wasn’t used to receiving compliments. He was absolutely terrible at them.

“Tha—thank you,” he said, avoiding the congressman’s eyes when they shook hands.

Newman held on a touch longer than strictly necessary.

“So humble too. Please, call me Ned. I’m obviously a fan of yours,” he said, leaning a little bit into Mickey’s personal space. It was close enough for his thick aftershave to invaded Mickey’s nostrils. “Perhaps I can interest you in joining me on the terrace for some conversation? I know all this hoolabaloo isn’t your type of thing. I’d also like somewhere more private.”

Mickey leaned away.

This was yet another thing that he wasn’t too fond of: the flirting. He was never into it. Never liked it. Always felt embarrassed about anybody being interested in him. No one ever was before he became one of America’s youngest self-made billionaires… well, to say no one may be slightly untrue. There had always been this one runt that followed him around.

“I’m sure our dear Chloe wouldn’t take it too kindly of you monopolize Mikhailo all to yourself. He’s the beat eye-candy here. It’ll be like stealing the light of this ballroom.” Ian suddenly came from nowhere. Like a firefly drawn to fire, he always found Mickey. He must have a third sense solely for the older man. “I don’t believe we’ve met. An oversight, I’m sure. My name’s Ian.”

“An oversight indeed. Congressman Ned Newman, maybe you’ve seen me on the news?” Ned asked, faking his smile. “My co-authored the recently gun control bill. It aims to lessen the use of firearms in domestic violence cases. Less guns on the streets; less trouble.”

“Or more troubled. Depends on how you see things, Congressman,” Ian countered. He sided up to Mickey, and the other unconsciously shifted closer. There was his opening. “Boring politics aside,” he said, placing a hand lightly over the small of Mickey’s back, moving close like he was going to whisper a secret, “Your mother’s calling for you. Dinner is almost ready. I have our seats.”

Mickey couldn’t help the breath of relief. With a practiced smile, he gently declined. “My apologies, Congressman Newman. I am needed elsewhere. It was nice meeting you.” Then, he turned go Ian and said “please lead the way” before promptly fleeing.

“Just Ned, please!” Ned called after them but they’d already disappeared in the sea of people.

Ian stormed-off like an elegant madman—brisk but with grace. He had a good foot over Mickey. Every inch proved their worth. People parted like the red sea. There was a sea of red in his eyes.

Mickey struggled to keep up. His legs could only carry him so far. It didn’t help that Ian’s hand gripped him by the wrist. It felt hot like a brand. His focus kept ping-ponging between embarrassment and walking.

“Ian—Ian, wait!”

He staggered then failed to keep balance. His toe skid on the floor, nearly toppling him. He caught himself just in time. “Ian, wait!” He tugged, “please, we are making a scene—” he lowered his voice, “ _other-Ian_ is coming out!”

The last bit made Ian stop.

“Breathe,” Mickey cooed softly, close to Ian’s ear. He had his other hand wrapped around Ian’s nape. “Just breathe for me, yeah? That’s it.”

Ian blinked, eyes refocusing. Then, he returned to normal. A small smile crept into his lips.

“Let’s go find our seats,” he said, entwining their fingers.

Another hot blush warmed Mickey’s cheeks, and it stayed their through their ten-course meal. Ian’s toe kept caressing Mickey’s instep, shin, behind the knee, and inner thighs. Needless to say, Mickey was all the more grateful for long-cut tuxedo jackets. There was no one any wiser even as they slowly relocated to the ballroom once more. He walked timidly behind Ian but it seemed the redhead was hell-bent on ignoring him again.

“Ian, come on,” he pleaded, not paying attention to his step. A sharp pain caught him by surprise. “Oww!”

In the blink of an eye, his world spun around a hundred times before he found himself in the arms of one Ian Gallagher. Ian’s red hair a perfect contrast to the maroon carpet. His expensive hair gel pulled through.

“You alright, Mick?”

Mickey heard Ian’s voice through the ringing in his ears. Everything else sounded like a blaring barrage of white noise. Ian felt so far away.

“Mick?”

Slowly, Mickey recovered from his dizziness.

“Huh? What happened?” He asked as they shakily stood up. Immediately, his ankle throbbed and his weight fell on Ian. A crowd has gathered around them. Mickey warmed under the heat of their gazes. He nodded to them, “I’m fine. Please, don’t let me interrupt the your pleasant evening.”

“Are you okay, Mick?” Ian asked him quietly, a hand gently cupping Mickey’s elbow.

“Yes,” Mickey nodded one more, “I’m good. I think.”

Just when he thought the worst was over, Congressman Newman reappeared.

“Oh Mikhailo, dear me, please,” he said, slinking to between Mickey and Ian with an air of self-importance, “let my private physician take a look. That was quite a nasty fall. It must be the slippery floors! What a shame for such poor maintenance.”

Mickey gave him a placating smile but pushed away. He fought through the pain. Shaking his head, he slowly said, “No, no, I assure you it was all me. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“No, I insist,” Newman pressed.

“—you’re right,” Ian cut in yet again, with a big plastic smile that was reserved solely for business. His complete aura changed from beast into angel. No one could resist his charm. “It was out negligence. Please,” he said, hand back on Mickey elbow, “allow me to personally see to Mr. Milkovich’s first aid. I am, after all, the owner of this establishment. I’ll take him to the private area.”

His tone left no room for arguments.

Newman flexed his jaw at the defeat. “At least call the man a wheelchair or stretcher. You can’t make him walk!”

Ian threw a smirk his way. “Don’t worry,” he said, like the calm before a storm, “I got it covered… Hold tight, Mick!”

That’s a the warning Mickey before Ian lifted him off the floor in one smooth swoop—an arm under his knees and another supported his back. His arms automatically circled Ian’s neck. Thankfully his covered most of the blush down his skin but the red on his neck still gave him away. It didn’t help that he could _feel_ Ian fuming. Embarrassed and afraid, be could do nothing but hide his face in Ian’s neck while Ian carried him somewhere else.

Ian was silent all the way to his private quarters.

Mickey couldn’t get word in when Ian dumped him unceremoniously on the large king-sized bed, long fingers working some kind of magic to get his trousers down passed his knees. A white hot blush if a different embarrassment colored his lightly tanned torso.

“My—my pants—they’ll wrinkle!”

Ian chuckle darkly. “Kinky little fuckers wants’em off. He wasted no time pulling Mickey’s shoes and pants. Both flew over his shoulder. The belt and buckles landed heavily on the carpet behind him. He had Mickey bare to the waist down, half lying on his side. He crawled behind the brunette with no preamble.

“Fuck it,” he whispered gruffly, licking wetly at Mickey’s ear, “I’ll buy you new ones—hundreds, anything you’d like, Mick, but let me—” his hand slid down Mickey’s flat stomach, by-passing the blunt cockhead, then tugged on Mickey’s balls.

A small pained whine—no doubt mixed with pleasure—escaped Mickey’s throat.

“I—Ian! No, not there…”

“Where?” Ian asked, hand leaving bruises on Mickey’s hip as he ground his clothed cock on Mickey’s bare ass. “Or, I could stop—shit sorry, I—this isn’t me.”

“No!” Mickey cried when Ian began to pull away. His hand reached to clasp behind Ian’s neck, squeezing. He pulled the taller man’s face back to his neck. “No, no, it’s okay. Ian—I _want this_. Don’t—don’t ever pull away. Not again. Never again. This is good. I want—” his hand reached for Ian’s and put them both around his cock, “I wanna feel you touching me, ya? It’s just us—you and me, me and you—just like this.”

Ian whimpered against his neck. Mickey whimpered back, unconsciously biting his lower lip.

They work his cock—down the shaft, playing with his balls, sliding up, teasing the crown before thumbing at the slit. Mickey’s hips move on their own accord, pushing into Ian’s crotch. It’s good but it isn’t enough. The lust ran deep in his veins. He needed to feel more. His ass clenched and unclenched like a silent plea. Only a thin piece of cloth separated him from Ian’s gigantic cock. He wanted it. His leg came down for leverage.

“Ouch, fuck!”

White-hot pain returned.

Mickey let out a distressed animalistic sound, half a whimper and half a whine. Body uncontrolled as he twitched in discomfort.

Ian growled from behind him. There was a _swish_ then a grunt which sounded like Ian. Then, Mickey’s leg was being folded, bent at the junction of his knees. Ian’s large hand held him with ease. The thin brown leather belt wrapped securely around his thigh and shin, giving Ian all the access he needed.

Mickey’s eye grew wide. His head torn between a shake and a nod. A dark red blush covering his whole face. He opened his mouth no words same. Sweat dripped down with his Adam’s apple, down the valley of his pinked chest. His stomach quivered, cock dark and purple over it. He was spread wide for Ian. Like this, he couldn’t move—completely under Ian’s mercy.

“Sorry,” Ian murmured in apology, “just—it’s gonna keep foot outta way. Gotta keep ya from hurting your self.” He’s so far gone, southern accent thickening his arousal grew.

Mickey clawed at the hand Ian wrapped around his waist. He pulled it down between his legs, past his balls, to his hole.

“ _Ian_ ,” he rasped, “I need…”

“Need what, Mick?” Ian murmured into a smooth shoulder, kissing all around it.

Mickey shook his head. “Don’t—don’t make me say it.”

“Why?” Ian demanded, frustration rising. He bit hard into Mickey shoulder but not enough to draw blood. It caused the brunette cry out loud. “Say it,” he pressed, sucking a large hickey next to the bite. His fingers swept over the dry ring if muscles, “Let me hear you, Mick.”

Mickey bit his lip, the black sleeves on his tuxedoed arms over his face. He had his face turned away but his eyes watched Ian from the corner of his eyes 

“F—fingers, I want—ah!” He bit into the fabric when Ian dipped inside without warning. “Ah! Ahh! _Fuck_ , Ian!”

Ian nibbled Mickey’s ear. “God, ‘so hot when ya swear. The Milkovich’s perfect little angels turns naughty under my hands. Hmm, Mick, I’ll never get enough of you.” He lay spooned behind Mickey, an cradling Mickey’s head and the other loosening Mickey’s hole. The pucker clung onto his finger. “So tight, Mick. I’m gonna wreck you.”

Mickey’s whole body shuddered with lust, whimpering. His whole body burned where Ian touched him. He couldn’t think. His skin buzzed, sensitive to Ian’s every touch. It has always been like this—from the start—Ian knew how to touch his body like he had been made to be pleasured by Ian.

“You’re still loose from earlier, right?” Ian pushed further, feeling the damp channel. “You dirty, dirty man,” He grinned, “walking around looking pristine and perfect in your tuxedo all night. Tempting men like _Congressman Fuck-face_ with this gorgeous bum and yet—” he prodded with a second finger, making Mickey gasp, “—holding my cum like a good boy. How’d it feel walking around with it? Dirty? Perverted? Owned? Tell me, Mickey. Did it feel good? Does this?”

“Y—yes!” Mickey squeezed his eyes shut. “Ian, come on, get in me.”

Begging made Ian smile.

“No,” he said, moving his other hand to pinch a nipple, “You’re going to come just like this—with my fingers in your ass and nothing else.”

Mickey’s cock twitched at the declaration. “N-no, please, touch my cock. Ian!”

Ian’s grin grew wider. “That’s right, Mick. _I’m_ the only one who gets to see you like _this_ —” his fingers plunged deep, making Mickey bow his back. His tongue darted out to touch lick any inch if skin he could reach, painting it with his saliva, “—wet for it,” he said, stroking Mickey’s cock in time with his thrusts. A shiny bead of precum oozed from the tip. “Absolutely dripping. You’re perfect.”

Mickey quivered, his coat sleeves darker where he bit them. Saliva dripped down his chin. Sweat trickled down his neck. His tied leg uselessly jerking but he couldn’t get leverage. He smelled Ian’s expensive aftershave and perfume; but, underneath all that, Ian’s natural spicy scent. Maybe this is what it felt like to be high. He climbed.

Behind him, Ian warm body spooned against his back, holding him in place. Power was something Ian always had, used it as a weapon, wielded it deathly efficiency. Just as much, Ian had always had power over him whether he would admit it or not. From Ian, he’d drawn his strength so many times.

“I—Ian, “ he panted, open-mouthed, “Let me come, please.”

“Kiss me first” came the demand.

Mickey slipped away to turn in Ian’s arms, careful not to jostle his leg. Arms curled around the back of Ian’s neck. He pressed his parted lips on Ian’s, tongue darting out for a taste. The taste of sweet champagne flooded his mouth. So much of it, like Ian has drunk bottles not flutes.

Despite the earlier  hurriedness, the kiss they shared was slow.

Mickey clung on. His free leg wrapped Ian’s waist for leverage, opening up his ass. He rubbed his bare cock onto the bulge inside Ian’s pants. Both of them groaned at the sensation.

“Ian,” he pleaded, “come on!”

Just as he demanded, the fingers returned with renewed vigor, aimed right for his sweet spot. Pleasure burst from inside. He felt the growing pressure from the bottom of his pelvis crawling to his tightening balls. He rode Ian’s form, grinding their cocks together.

 “Come.”

It was as if he’d been waiting for permission.

Mickey came, jerking in Ian’s brace as he coated their stomachs. It felt like forever. Ian kept teasing his sweet spot, milking him dry. Mickey wouldn’t stop shivering even as Ian pulled out his fingers then maneuvered him out his sweaty clothes. With every layer gone, he shivered harder even as Ian placed him under the thick covers. The belt as well. He hissed when Ian massaged the feeling back into the leg.

Of course, the loss of body heat only made Mickey shiver all the more. His hand caught Ian’s wrist just as the ginger was about to move away.

“No,” he rasped.

Ian turned, kneeling so their eyes could meet. “Let me get out of these clothes and cuddle the fuck out of you.” He did as promised, then climbed into bed behind Mickey. His long naked limbs wrapped gathered Mickey to him. “I—hey,  I’m sorry I made you miss the party.” He mumbled childish into Mickey’s hair, arms squeezing momentarily. “I just hate other people trying to steal you away from me.”

“You idiot,” Mickey muttered back, snuggling closer. “No one’s going to steal me away—unless it’s an ER doctor for my ankle. Besides, you know I hate parties anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please be nice~ One of the reasons why I love writing for this fandom is because of the feedback that I get. It doesn't have to be long or inspiring. I'm constantly trying to improve how I write—be it grammar, plot, or characters. I'd appreciate it. :) 
> 
> ***  
>  **If you have a prompt or an idea, you can[INSPIRE ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/submit) on tumblr. Or [TALK TO ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/ask)~**
> 
> **As always, **kudos/comments/bookmarks** are all appreciated by this author. I take comments as extra-kudos and I _do_ read the bookmark tags (some are really fun).**


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